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Post by Golden Boy on Dec 20, 2021 22:15:31 GMT -8
As Nohoilpi released Golden Boy, the Fairest's legs immediately gave, staring at the yawning pit as his mind tried to adapt to a Forbidden Knowledge that had been driven into his being.
"Oh."
He resolved that the cost had not been worth it.
The dead roared in his mind for justice he could provide; if he was prepared to topple the Freehold and write the end of lot of stories. As if to test it—to make sure this was actually happening—he dug his claws into the wound of his pierced heart, the Stygian lance forming in his bloody hand as he laid it across his knees. His head tilted, as if listening intently to the eldritch cries below.
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Post by Blaze on Dec 27, 2021 12:02:44 GMT -8
Blaze watches the spectacle with barely contained mix of morbid fascination and anxiety, like she's witnessing an operatically-prolonged execution. Looks like Nohoilpi really is stepping down, but here's the fucked up part: if your problem is that you can't hold the Crown because the mundane world is now more alien than the fae one, maybe don't grind your already fragile successor to dust making sure he's as fragmented as you are.
The vicious cycle continues.
Their future monarch falls, as anyone would: there probably isn't a single person in existence who could take what this poor bastard is going through right now. Making something more and less than a conscious decision, Blaze attempts to get closer to Golden Boy, attempting to stay unseen for as long as possible in case someone tries to stop her, steeling herself for whatever came next. She has no idea what she's going to do while in touching distance, this situation is way above her pay grade. It'd be easy to just stand aside and do nothing but fuck it, if this whole thing is about inner humanity then Blaze is going to do the humane thing and offer what support she can.
And whoever disagrees can jump right into that pit over there.
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Post by Lucas Chevalier on Dec 28, 2021 20:04:36 GMT -8
"Golden Boy, no. Please, stop."
The older Fairest's voice was soft as he forced his own anxiety deep into his chest and drew upon their shared humanity. His newly minted mantle reflected his emotions as the soft bell chimes lamented for not only the dead, but the living who could not find any peace in their waking moments.
He moved over to Golden Boy, gently placing his hand on top of Golden Boy's claw, and he gave it a small squeeze to try and get him to stop tearing into his heart. In moments like there, there was so much that could be said and done that could either make things worse or make things better. But in the end, Lucas reminded himself once more, that while the soul of the Court was being battled for, this was the concluding chapter of Golden Boy and his year long suffering. The most important thing in his mind was reminding Golden Boy of his own strength and his own bond with those in the Freehold who were worth fighting for.
"You told me to trust you and I do. We made a promise to each other that we would trust in each other and figure this out together."
Lucas continued to speak in a soft voice while calling upon the magical bond that the two of them formed with each other in Samhain.
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Post by Golden Boy on Dec 28, 2021 22:39:31 GMT -8
The rest of the Court seemed in just as much shock as everyone else, except maybe Sedna as she took a step towards Golden herself, letting the other two offer their warmth before she quietly prompted that he needed to say something to the rest of the Arrows. The Dragon blinked, slits narrowing as he took in a sudden sharp breath and registered the two that were flanking him with darting attention. His face couldn't settle on an emotion, jumping as Lucas took his hand and taking another beat to recognize the cold hand wasn't another tortured soul screaming at him for salvation. Or, it was, really, but with different context. An unsure chuckle followed the exhale, with the air no longer misting around his lips like everyone else. He had sent his last surviving kin down there—the head now the key and the curse—but now the Fairest was expected to close the Gate on him. Friend of the dead indeed! Uncontrolled laughter shuddered in Golden's chest, silenced with some effort as he drifted away from the cosmic prank Nohoilpi had just pulled on him. Chevalier's own prompt brought the rest of the Onyx collective into the peripheral of his racing attention, cruelty radiating from the strength of his Kith as he danced through the memories of the burdensome ward of the Freehold. The Thread of Joy was drawn taught, as the line of his humanity was drawn over the Sovereign's blade; sawing identity between two titanic forces. He felt grounded fulfillment in the satisfaction of pulling the trigger, and collapsing this Fae nightmare, while the Taboos of Arcadia wept at the blood on his hands. He shook his head, sharp grin stretching as the other hammer landed; realizing the crazy fuck had forced him to stop thinking like a child. He used the Stygian lance to stand, mirroring the defiant weapon he had leaned on to challenge the King once-upon-an-Imbolc. He even dragged Lucas with him, forgetting to let go as his claws dug into something solid and safe. He smiled at Blaze, eyes still raw with nothing left to cry, before taking in the Court of Sorrow and Secrets. "Can you all stop looking at me like I'm going to kill you?" he sniffed, a former roguish fire now bitter embers. "I tore my brother's head off for you." He didn't point the blade at anyone, spinning it low as ice twisted over the chasm as a cacophony of fists and rising desperate howls started hammering from below. Nohoilpi's shoulders dropped a bit, riding the wave of one of his biggest gambles to date as the darkness of the room seemed to collect around him. The Lost faded, only detectable because one had yet to blink. The Gravewight's mien shuddered at the gates of Arcadia, the Voice becoming the space itself rather than a scratching whisper in the skull of one's mind, pouring from the mouths of the others as their eyes turned to the void, lending their own tongues to the silence. "T H E C R O W N W I L L C O M E O N T H E S O L S T I C E I F I T S S U B J E C T S A C C E P T Y O U A S T H E I R S O V E R E I G N."
Offering a bow to everyone, the entity fully dissipated. |
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Post by Lucas Chevalier on Dec 28, 2021 23:13:02 GMT -8
The gravity of the situation caused Lucas to drop onto his knees after Golden Boy was done dragging him along. God, he was so very exhausted in this moment. His bones ached from a tiredness that he could only guess came from his time in Arcadia because no earthly experience resonated with the tiredness he felt in that moment.
All the answers he had to the questions that haunted his mind regarding his kith disappeared when Nohoilpi stepped away. In the morning, when the sun came out, and he felt life in his bones again, he might care. For now, he felt completely numb because he had burned through every ounce of emotional energy he had to get this place. He could already feel his depression using his weakened mental state as an opportunity to take root.
His blue eyes were dull as he glanced up at his friend who suddenly looked quite monstrous and then over at Sedna. If Vegas had any chance of surviving the coming Winter, they needed someone who knew how to live among both mortals and monsters.
"No more." He mumbled as his shoulders dragged him down until he was resting on all fours.
"No more being ruled by those who are more in tune with Arcadia than the land of humans. We need a different winter this season if we are going to survive. I pledge my support of sovereign to you, Sedna."
He weakly raised his head so he could look up at her to see her reaction and so she could see what he meant every word that he said.
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Post by Blaze on Dec 29, 2021 1:54:30 GMT -8
Just as there was time to offer Golden Boy someone to latch onto, now there came a moment to give him some space. Blaze takes a step back, confident in the assumption that no one is going to notice until after the fact - far more interesting things with immense occult and political gravity were happening. The Torrent observed it all hunched into a protective stance, muscles freezing with cold or overwhelming magic or something else entirely as something pounded directly onto her brain.
Someone says something. It takes a moment to connect the voice with the face, and then one moment more to decode the sounds into coherent words as the storm dissipates. Sedna for Monarch. The Elemental was peripherally aware of the figure, but couldn't conjure any details that might inform her what kind of Queen she'd make.
Just another name. After today, it'll be hard to think of the Las Vegas Onyx Court as anything else than a cover over that pit where ghosts lie imprisoned, with a face painted on it. How much does it matter whose face it's going to be, if it's the craft and material of the shield that counts?
Blaze stays silent.
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Post by Sedna on Dec 29, 2021 13:42:40 GMT -8
Golden Boy looked as if he had been slapped, glancing at his hands as a monstrous nature was implied. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the confrontation died as he gave Lucas some space. He palmed his mother's ring in his pocket as one of his anchors, but the meaning was lost after the impossible task he had completed. The losses of childhood pulled at the Fairest's mind—that he was always too far gone. His sacrifices only served to make others think he was unhinged. Fake smiles and flitting scales glimmered in the shadows, waiting for him to show weakness or a loss of control as his reality faltered.
Sedna jumped despite herself as the wave of pikes cascaded from the ice, unsure in the moment of whether the hands of whatever was howling was reaching from below, until she recognized it was the last signature of the Dragon's Mantle. Pieces were moving quickly as Nohoilpi indulged the gifts of his Seeming, stepping back to let the Court handle itself. Weapons were silently drawn—some training on the Winter Prince, others on herself and her vassals as Chevalier beseeched her. Mordecai and Cailleagh moved closer together, staring down some of their neighbours as a wicked bow of shadow manifested in the Nightsinger's hands. Lancelot counted under his breath, pale as the Wizened was pushed to the limits of Vegas' lack of decorum, and missing Buck's political instinct. His hand twitched on an imagined dial, in case he would have to manipulate the timeline, while his attention never left Golden Boy's lance dragging across the threshold of Oblivion—Fawkes was an idiot for trusting this punk.
As Sedna moved, she thanked Blaze as she passed, clearly on a mission to fully connect with the Elemental. Julia grabbed Sedna's wrist, hissing low with Blaze in earshot that she knew this was her orchestra, and she would make sure the Qallupilluk would pay for her rampant Despair. Roger put a hand on his bat-like motleymate and nodded for the Knight of Veils to do her job before the chamber descended into chaos—neither wielded the proclamation of Royal Court, and those who did did not seem interested in controlling the blistering tension. His necrotic expression held no reverence or warmth for Sedna, erring on his motley's instincts but maintaining Order. Her vassal had set the stage, and she continued to glide as years of work was coming to fruition.
Those not privy to the inner sanctum of King Nohoilpi's politics blinked at the newly minted noble Gravewight, confusion clear as some murmured out loud if that was allowed, of if they could really do that. Lucas had an earnest aura about him, and it was easy to get swept up with all of the masterful speeches. In response, a few shouted that Roger was more qualified to keep the magic at bay, as his entire department managed the Rites and heavy lifting on occult disasters. The towering Ogre cut his hand, sweeping it for silence, earning mixed reviews of eager nodding or mounting concern. Once it was confirmed arrows and swords weren't about to launch for the crown on the eve of their Coronation, Sedna placed a hand on Lucas' shoulder, keeping her smile gentle,
"I appreciate your support, Lucas. Stand up, please. We are past the point of calamity." Her tone was encouraging, tucking her hair behind her ear and projecting her voice for the court's reassurance. A glance at Roger afforded the nod that things beyond her ken weren't about to implode.
"I do not seek the crown," she confirmed, approaching Golden without caution to stand next to him as she spoke. "I never have. We have bore witness to the trails of the Queens, and the relentless greed of Spring's favour, and I have watched my friends change in ways I find myself ill suited for," she explained, placing a hand over her heart. "My power has always fell under the freedom of my faces, and my connectedness with the Freehold. As Queen, I would lose that mercurial flexibility, and embody the tenants of the Season as I bore the weight of its voice on my lips. My world is with the people, and I refuse to return to the ice."
The Qallupilluk cupped the Fae-child's face, teeth as sharp as his as she spoke to him in a private tone, seemingly coaxing him from the cold distance he was mentally nesting in. "What I would suggest, if anything, is that we create an office to advocate for this perspective, but that is for another time when the Season deigns the worthy. I know with the alliances you have created, you can do this, and make the changes you have been fighting for."
Golden Boy rolled his neck to relieve the tension; eyes downcast so as not to pin the Lost with the gaze of a Hunterheart.
"I'd like to say I'm above all this and that I don't care who gets the crown, but honestly anyone with that opinion can get fucked."
Mordecai choked on his laughter at the other Onyx expressions, earning a jab from Cailleagh.
"Oh- I'm dead serious." Golden Boy did look up then. "I didn't risk everything and poison my mind with Fae secrets like a cracked Leaden Mirror to be told that I'm too tainted to know what I'm doing. We aren't the Court of Fear. Most of you literally watched me grow up. Any feelings that I'm too unstable or inhuman is your problem, because I'm more concerned about the colossal list of spinning plates I need to somehow parse to the rest of you. I need you to believe m'not crazy, for us not to die. I'm sorry that what the Pantheon built is ugly. I can stab this lance into the floor and burn it down, but I'd like to think I've proven at this point that I care about your lives being on the line."
He swallowed, jaw clenched as his voice trembled; the Key dissipating to the smell of ash and blood. "I'm angry. I hate all of you right now. I get that's because of what's been done to me. Do you want Nohoilpi to still be our King without a Crown, or are you going to fu-," he breathed, collecting himself from flying away, and recognizing that he didn't feel pain anymore,
"Help me? So I can at least keep it all together for handling Jólnir?"
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Post by Roger on Dec 29, 2021 13:50:52 GMT -8
Roger blew out the one cheek that wasn't rotted through, muttering 'thank fucking god' under his breath as he flashed the moody Prince a thumbs up.
"I'm cool to roll with a Sovreign that can understand, so we don't end up like Spring and Summer. We don't have the luxury of bad spellwork and weaker wards for failing the ancient pacts, as I gather everyone's gotten the message?"
The Knight of Mourning illustrated his point by slamming the chainmail boot into the black ice of their gathering.
"We've got families to go home to. Moral debate can happen when I haven't just spent the last few months keeping our shared magic from rotting the mundies from the inside out. I don't need Yule to blow up and be several times worse. If that kinslaying ritual just gave you the nuclear launch codes? If the crown gives you better context on top of all that? I'm fine to pay for your therapist myself."
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Post by Blaze on Dec 29, 2021 17:21:46 GMT -8
It seemed that the Knights had the situation well in hand - or at least as well as could be expected considering the readiness for violence displayed not two minutes ago. Things seem to be calming down, sparing Blaze the necessity of trying to contain them more aggressively, but there's a palpable sense of anxiety and hopelessness radiating from many Winters. Whoever ends up with the Crown, these people will need to be worked on and patiently explained the value of taking one for the team.
She nods to Sedna, the intent to connect reciprocated. She nods to Golden Boy when he asks for support, even if he didn't ask her specifically, and when she raises her head, the Torrent's face is more reminiscent of a death mask, frozen in the expression of steely resolve.
"I will help you however I can. You, or anyone else that the Season deems worthy of bearing the Crown. Not because I don't care who that ends up being, but because we can't afford anything less than all hands on deck. There is Fair Folk at the gates, and we've just had a taste of how heavy the Silent Arrow's duties are." She shifts her gaze from the ranking members to the Courtiers that seem caught in the claws of doubt. The doomsayers. The rebels.
The dead weight.
"Have your opinions by all means, but if anyone thinks this is a good time to give up and not lend your support whatever the Court ends up being, then do the right thing and leave before you drag anyone else down with you."
It's possible that anything said by a trained soldier with the essence of fire in their heart ends up being a bit scary, and fair's fair - Blaze didn't exactly shy away from the intimidating effect her words might have, but she sounds more like someone who seeks to drive home that the point she's making is actually of grave importance. Who knows, it might end up saving someone's life, in one way or another.
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Post by Lucas Chevalier on Dec 29, 2021 22:02:34 GMT -8
While Lucas remained connected to his perception of the world, he was hit with a special kind of emotional devastation as he felt the connection between Golden Boy and himself become severed.
In the end, the trust had only been one way. Perhaps in time, he would come to see this as a lesson on how challenging it was for those deeply in tuned with their fae and those who were deeply in tuned with their humanity to maintain relationships.
Everything else that was being said was drowned out as Lucas felt the determination that had urged him this far disappear leaving only a sense of emotional numbness behind.
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Post by Krakenbox on Jan 1, 2022 16:21:55 GMT -8
The split between the Court's politics was clear to those even without expertise, with Chevalier's confrontation and rise sparking a wordless conversation to those of lower Mantle. What it really came down to was that everyone was more than a little confused — was this a good thing? Had they won — and at what game, exactly?
Blaze's stark and utilitarian approach had its appeal, giving the floor an out where one could shelve their politics and call it a day, and process what the hell just happened in the fortress of their homes and hollows.
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